


once bitten, twice shy

by Jelly



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Holiday Special, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: They call it something else. Yule, she thinks, and it’s not really quite the same. For them, it’s a sort of Winter Festival to celebrate something in Katolan mythology that she doesn’t fully understand. A hunt or something. Callum and Ezran have never really cared for the nuance of it all - for them, it’s just an excuse to drink cocoa and exchange gifts.For her own people, it’s a celebration of the longest night of the year. One that involves weaving crowns of snowdrops and winter jasmine and dancing in the moonlit snow. Mum and Dad used to come home for it every year, and then… things got complicated.(Or a Rayllum Holiday Special)
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 105
Kudos: 646





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so i asked on tumblr how much people wanted a holiday special and apparently, you guys wanted it a lot so here it is i guess??? I'm just kinda playing this by ear. I have a lot going on rn but I'm hoping this'll be relatively short and I can get it done before Christmas :D

i.

  
  
  


It’s not like Rayla’s not used to the cold. 

She’s done worse than this, for one, and she’s spent enough time standing guard on the Storm Spire that she’s grown used to the bitter weather that comes with the altitude. She’d spent days on the snowy alps of Katolis in nothing but her assassin’s gear, once upon a time, and only a week or two after that, she’d leapt off the Pinnacle and faced the chill of the wind rushing through her hair as she fell to what she’d been certain, at the time, should have been her death. 

No, the cold certainly isn’t a bother to her, but there’s always something different about the way it blows as the year begins to close. Perhaps it’s the snowfall that comes with it, heralding the return of winter. Maybe the frost it brings just reminds her of her childhood in the Silver Meadow, and of warm flavoured milk between her hands. Maybe she’s just looking forward to another Winter Solstice at the Banther Lodge with Callum and Ezran.

It’ll be her fourth one this year.

She doesn’t ask for leave often, and the few times she does, Queen Zubeia is more than happy for her to go. She likes to think that it’s because of what she was willing to give to keep Zym safe all those years ago, but more likely it’s because Zym has obvious favourites, and she’s never really been able to say no when he wants snacks or attention.

He’s a fair bit bigger now. Rayla kind of misses the days when he used to fit in her lap. In theory, he can - he’s just four times as big as he used to be and it’s not nearly as comfortable. He’s taller than her now, if he stands on his back paws, and either his connection with Ez is stronger than she thinks it is or he just enjoys being a little bit of a brat, because his obsession with jelly tarts _can’t_ be good for a growing dragon like him.

Still. She supposes she can’t complain.

Her only job is to keep him out of trouble. Rearing him must be worse.

He’s being mischievous again today. Rayla can hear him scampering around his mother’s chamber from all the way out here, and Queen Zubeia might be bigger, sure, but he’s a fast little bugger and she’s not nearly as young as she wishes she was. 

She shouldn’t laugh - and she isn’t - but that, too, brings back memories, this time of the days she and Callum spent wandering through Xadia to bring him home, and those are almost as warm as the winters with his family.

She hides a smile in his scarf. He lets her keep it when he and Ibis have to be away for days at a time on training excursions, and it clashes a little with her Dragon Guard uniform but no one else seems to mind so she wears it in his absence. It’s probably not appropriate that he spends all of his off-time at the Storm Spire with her, but there’s history there that can’t be argued against.

Zym likes him.

Zubeia likes him.

He’d been the one to return Zym with Rayla all those years ago.

He’s more than capable of being part of the Guard too, now that Ibis has trained him up a bit, but he’s a human ambassador first. His prowess as a Sky Mage is just an added perk that lets him hang out far more often than the average visitor.

“He’s due back soon then?”

Varsha sounds unimpressed, but then, Rayla thinks, she always is. She’d joined the Dragon Guard shortly after its reformation - top of her class in everything, she’d boasted, could best anyone in archery and in stealth, and that she was the most skilled Skywing elf in the world. 

Rayla thinks she’s insufferable. So far, there’s been no proof. Her arrogance irks her, and what’s more, she’s openly not fond of Callum and his presence at the Storm Spire. She’s just jealous, Rayla chides herself. To Varsha, Callum is, by all definitions, an outsider, and yet, he’s been allowed to learn the deepest secrets of the Sky Primal, and from _Ibis_ , no less, over her. It’s a poor excuse for her attitude, but it explains it all nonetheless.

“Soon enough,” Rayla answers, fingers fiddling absent-mindedly with Callum’s scarf.

Varsha wrinkles her nose in disdain. “I think pining is unbecoming,” she sneers.

“Good thing I don’t care what you think,” drawls Rayla. She rolls her eyes. This is not new behaviour for Varsha, but it _is_ childish, and Rayla has no patience for it today. Callum’s training excursion has gone on for longer than usual - he’s been gone about a week, and a _long_ week, at that. Rayla likes to think she’s not normally so antsy, but it’s rare to be on shift with Varsha, and rarer still when she has to be on shift with Varsha _while Callum’s away._

She sighs into his scarf, grateful for the warmth over her nose and lips; the soft material strangely reassuring; the scent so familiar that it that soothes the tension in her back. 

She _does_ miss him. She misses his warmth at night, and the way he folds his wings over her shoulders when he’s being cute and overly affectionate. She misses his company; his gentle teasing; his eyes and the way they shine in the early mornings; his smile whenever she suggests something less than appropriate - 

Moon and Stars, what she wouldn’t give to see him appear on that horizon tonight. This is supposed to be his last extended lesson before he and Ibis break for the winter, and in a week, Rayla’s usual leave begins, and they can be on their way again for a month’s worth of shenanigans at the Banther Lodge for this year’s Winter Solstice.

They call it something else. Yule, she thinks, and it’s not really quite the same. For them, it’s a sort of Winter Festival to celebrate something in Katolan mythology that she doesn’t fully understand. A hunt or something. Callum and Ezran have never really cared for the nuance of it all - for them, it’s just an excuse to drink cocoa and exchange gifts.

For her own people, it’s a celebration of the longest night of the year. One that involves weaving crowns of snowdrops and winter jasmine and dancing in the moonlit snow. Mum and Dad used to come home for it every year, and then… things got complicated.

Their names have been cleared now. Callum and Ibis had found their coins, lying half embedded in the dirt after Viren’s fall all those years ago. It had taken… a fair effort to pull them out. Magic well beyond even her own comprehension. Some combination of the Earth and Moon Primals, Rayla thinks. Zubeia had given them her gratitude after Callum had shown her what happened, and they were welcomed home as heroes when they went back to the Silvergrove with an also-freed, single-armed Runaan.

Rayla… hasn’t been home at all. Not since that day she came back with Callum and found herself ghosted by her own people. 

They write to her. Runaan, and Ethari, and Mum, and Dad, she means. They come to see her at the Storm Spire every now and then, their faces clear, their smiles warm, with promises that she can come home now - that she’s no longer a ghost to anyone in the Silvergrove, and that they’re all _so,_ so proud of everything she’s done.

But they still did it, didn’t they? thinks Rayla. Mum and Dad, she can’t blame so much. They weren’t there. They’d been ghosted too, and their visits are generally lovely.

But Runaan had killed Callum’s stepfather, even _after_ they’d shown him the egg; _after_ they’d demonstrated a chance - a _real_ chance - at peace. She gets it. Callum gets it. They had a mission, and it was the death of one versus the slow and painful loss of twelve limbs. But Callum still hasn’t really forgiven him for it because - well - how can he? 

At least Rayla had made a choice. A far braver one, he says, than Runaan’s.

And Ethari - Ethari loves her like a daughter, she knows it, and yet… he’d still done it. He’d still ghosted her after her supposed failure. Without even taking the time to consider what else might have happened. He’d _blamed her_ when Runaan’s lily sank and hers didn’t, and she knows in her head that it wasn’t a conscious effort; that he, in his words, hadn’t done so out of malice, but…

Rayla shakes her head and stares at her shoes. 

She’s not angry at them. They’d done what they thought was right. She’s just… not ready to go home yet.

Beside her, Varsha shifts. She squints at the horizon, a hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the setting sun, and bristles. 

“I’m done for the day,” she grumbles, turning before Rayla can even object. “No one’ll want to be out here in a minute anyway.”

Rayla scowls at her. Their shift ends in half an hour, and for someone who claims to be ‘easily the most proficient warrior on the Guard’, leaving early without a reason is neither professional nor a demonstration of this ‘proficiency’ she’s so proud of. There’s a protest building in Rayla’s throat, but Varsha waves vaguely at the horizon and draws Rayla’s attention to two little blips gliding across the bleak, darkening sky.

She squints, but the red and blue of Callum’s tunic and overcoat is unmistakable, and Rayla feels whatever complaints she might have die on her tongue. Her lips tilt upwards from behind his scarf, but she keeps the rest of her face clear and void of the warmth rising in her chest. Varsha’s smug enough without witnessing that.

“Fine,” says Rayla. “There’s nothing to handover anyway.”

Varsha snorts. Rayla catches the roll of her eyes as she steps back into the depths of Zubeia’s antechamber but she says nothing else, so neither does she. Instead, she tugs Callum’s scarf back under her chin, her grin wide as his silhouette grows bigger against the sky.

He’d land on the Pinnacle, usually, but he spots her at the mouth of the antechamber long before he even has to descend. The smile on his lips is blinding, and oh, how she’d missed it. It’s been such a _long_ week without him, but already her mood is lifting.

He veers away from Ibis’ path, his priorities clear, his hair whipping in the wind as he draws nearer, and he lands with learned grace before her, not two feet from where she stands.

“Hi there,” he says, ruffling his feathers. “I’m here to see my girlfriend? She’s the best one on the Guard.”

“You just missed her,” teases Rayla. “Varsha’s just left.”

Callum makes a face, horrified by the very concept, and Rayla lets out her laugh at last. She steps away from the mouth of the antechamber - it’s fine now that they’re both here - they’re more than a match for anything that makes it up mountain, assuming that anything’s coming to begin with. They can afford this one distraction. “Surely you don’t mean _me_?” she asks, her smirk coy.

He chuckles. “Only the true best of the Guard would be so modest.” He spreads his wings out for her and beckons her closer with his chin. “Do I get a kiss now or what?”

Rayla grins at him, but he doesn’t need to ask twice. She steps towards him, his wings folding around her shoulders in a great feathered hug that buffers the cold. “Hi,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss against his lips. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Callum breathes into her hair, his lips cold against her cheek

He’s taller now, although not quite taller than her ( _horns count,_ she insists). The Skywing garb suits him and fits well against his frame, but he’s still first and foremost a human ambassador, so his tunic remains Katolan red, and his outer coat still the blue of his birth father’s home. He still carries his sketchbook around with him - the binding’s a little ratty now, but it’s otherwise in good nick - and while his jaw is sharper and his shoulders are broader, his eyes and his smile and even his pout are still the same.

Rayla sighs against him. “How was the thing?”

Callum huffs. “Frustrating. Ibis thinks I need a staff but involves making my own Primal Stone and it’s… harder than I ever thought it would be.”

“Fancy,” says Rayla. 

“Mm.” Callum pauses. “There’s something else.”

“Oh?” Rayla pulls back a little. It doesn’t _sound_ like anything to be concerned about, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes her frown. “What’s wrong?”

Callum says nothing for a while. He purses his lips, and rolls his shoulders, and presses one last kiss to her forehead, before he heaves a sigh and lets the feathers fall from his arms at last. “Runaan came to see me,” he says finally. “He wants you to come home for the Solstice.”

x

Rayla stares at him. 

Her face is hard to read, even to him, but there are so many questions in her eyes that he has a feeling she just doesn’t know where to begin. In perfect honesty, Callum doesn’t really know how to feel about it either - _Runaan_ had come to _him_. It’s unlike him to forgo talking to Rayla first. It’s not like she’s ever gone out of her way to avoid letters from home. She relishes them, in fact - they’re the one reminder of the Silvergrove she’ll allow herself even though she refuses to go back. 

“Where were you, exactly?” she asks at last.

Callum shrugs a little, taking her hand in his to lead her back to the mouth of the antechamber so he can take Varsha’s post. “We were chasing storms,” he tells her. “There was one… a little way out from the Silvergrove. I didn’t go,” he adds hastily. Not that he has any particular reason to without her anyway. “They must have seen the magic or something.”

“You didn’t catch it, then.”

“Trapping a blizzard is harder than it sounds, you know.” He flashes her a smirk, enjoying the mischievous little twinkle in her eye. It fades after a moment though. There’s a discussion in the air. “They miss you, Rayla.”

She shifts uncomfortably. “They can come and see me at the Lodge.” 

“ _Rayla._ ” Callum lets out a sigh, reaching across the space between them to take her fingers in his. “It’s been four years.”

“So?” It comes out terse. Stubborn. She purses her lips. “It’s not like they haven’t seen me. They can come and visit any time they like.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it.” 

She rounds on him. “Why do _you_ want me to go all of a sudden?” she grumbles. “We already have plans to spend the Solstice at the Banther Lodge with Ezran and your Aunt Amaya. Are you suggesting we _don’t_ do that this year?”

Callum gives her a _look_. “I’m asking why you won’t consider doing both.”

Rayla bristles. There’s a moment where she hesitates - Callum sees it in her eyes. There’s no real reason they can’t - not really. She’d been pardoned along with her parents, and her family’s been waiting for her to come home for some time now. She just… won’t. Callum thinks he gets it. Somewhere along the line, her disappointment in herself had turned into a sort of resentment for her village - for their… less reasonable customs and traditions. He’d been mad too, when she told him they’d banished her for not dying like the others on her mission. But that was a long time ago. Things have changed. And Rayla… refusing to face them isn’t such a healthy mindset.

She shakes her head, her eyes hard. “You know that Runaan -”

“I know,” he says sharply, because he does. Things might have changed for her, but Runaan is still responsible for his stepfather’s death, and he still has issues about, yes, but it’s unfair of her to use _that_ as an excuse to avoid her own problems. He relents with a sigh. “They’re your family, Rayla. You miss them too. I know you do. And we don’t have to be there for long.”

“ _We?_ ”

He chuckles. “I know how you feel about all this. You didn’t seriously think I’d make you go home on your own, did you?” He presses a kiss into her knuckles and offers her a smile. “We don’t _have_ to go. I just… want you to consider it. I know you miss them. I know you miss _home_ too. Just know that,whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

They lapse into silence. Callum releases her hand at last and holds both of his own behind his back - an honorary member of the Dragon Guard, standing at the ready at the mouth of the Queen’s antechamber. Rayla says nothing else until the next shift arrive - two Sunfire elves volunteered by Janai from Lux Aurea. Her best, she’d said.

Rayla hands over quickly. Nothing to report but Zym being a nuisance to his mother. He’s still a baby. It’s understandable. They nod, their amusement clear in their eyes, Rayla’s shoulders slump at last as she leads Callum back down the mountain.

“If we go,” she says at last, quietly, like she’s hesitant to admit she’s even thought about it. “I’m not saying that we will yet. But if we did. We won’t stay long. We leave as soon as - as -” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t really need to for Callum to know what she wants to say. 

“We leave as soon as _you_ want us to,” he promises. “Rayla.” He stops her along the stairway with a hand at her elbow. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No,” she says. “We don’t. But… they’re my family. And I _do_ miss them. I’m just… afraid.”

Of what she doesn’t say, but Callum thinks he knows that too. Things have changed a _lot_ over the four years she _hasn’t_ been home. _She’s_ changed a lot. There’s still a lingering sort of fear there that she _won’t_ be welcomed back, even after all this time. That she might have changed too much for the rest of her village and she might not be welcomed back at all because of who she is now. 

“Good thing you’re the bravest person I know,” he says, kissing her brow gently. “I love you, Rayla. I’m with you, no matter what.”

She breathes a sigh and kisses him back. Just a little one on his lips. “I know. Thank you.”

It’s not a decision. But it’s not a _no_ , either. 

A little progress is better than none.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re going to the Silvergrove, Bait!"

ii.

  
  
  


The letters start arriving the next day.

Mum and Dad usually send a single letter - one from both of them, and it’s a nice sort of back-and-forth that Rayla’s made an effort not to break. Runaan and Ethari send her a single letter too, only marginally less often. She’s not so guilty about what happened and not so resentful that she doesn’t answer those. She misses them too just the same. 

She gets four letters today. One from each of them, with all the usual pleasantries - the _How are yous_ and the _We miss you dearlies_ but apart from those, they all come bearing the same message:

_Come home for the Solstice._

“They’re insistent,” she comments mildly, reading over Dad’s untidy scrawl, frown on her brow. 

“Hm?” Callum peers over her shoulder and squints at the letter. He’s picked up enough elven script from her and Ibis that he can make out bits of it, but he still looks to her for a complete translation.

The morning sun is high in the sky but they’re still in bed. Rayla’s on night duty for the rest of the week, but it always takes her a day or so to reverse her sleep cycle. Callum’s excuse is less valid - “It was a hard week, okay?” he’d said lamely, pressing his face determinedly against her back. She’d snorted to herself as if _she_ was being the mature one, but in the grand scheme of things, she’d missed his affection more than she knows how to admit. Who was she to object to late morning cuddles?

It’s probably closer to noon now. Breakfast is starting to weigh pretty heavily on her mind, but heavier still is the clutter of Ethari’s messenger arrows on her nightstand. They send messenger birds, usually - Ethari’s arrows are saved for urgent matters, only there’s _four_ of them and they’d all arrived within an hour of each other.

Rayla purses her lips. “What did Runaan say, exactly, when he came to see you?”

Callum exhales against her, his breath warm against her skin. “That it’s been long enough,” he says carefully. “That they all miss you and they wish you’d come home, even if it’s just for the -” he pauses. “Wintermoon Feast, I think? Is that what it’s called?”

Rayla chuckles despite herself, and sets Dad’s letter on her nightstand with the others. “That’s right,” she tells him. “It’s this traditional sort of party we have on the eve of the Winter Solstice. Its like your Yule Festival - there’s food and wine and dancing, and the whole village gets involved. It was pretty magical when I was a kid.”

“Everything here is magical,” teases Callum unhelpfully. “But - Rayla - that sounds amazing.”

“It is amazing,” she says, fond smile on her lips. It falters quickly. “ _Was_ amazing, I mean.”

There’s a pause. Rayla feels his hesitation in the way his arms tighten only very briefly around her waist. 

She gets up.

Callum does too. Sort of. He sits up in bed, his hair mussed, his clothes wrinkled, a crease in his cheek where the pillow had pressed a little too long against his face. He’d look ridiculous on any other day, but there’s a seriousness and a sympathy in his eyes that makes Rayla not want to look at him. “Hey.”

“I’m still thinking about it,” says Rayla shortly. It’s mostly true. She’s still pretty set on _not_ going, but there’s a part of her - a tiny _inkling_ in her mind - that’s _daring_ enough to hope. Maybe it _is_ time. Maybe it _has_ been long enough. And even if it hasn’t - Queen Zubeia’s pardon means more than what anyone else’s opinions might be. 

She was _here._

She brought Zym _home_ , and it’s because of her and Callum and Ez that this fragile peace between elves and humans exists in the first place. Surely _that’s_ enough to redeem her in the eyes of the rest of her village.

But then, she thinks, she’d hoped the first time they tried to drop by too. She’d hoped they might _understand_ , at the very least - but instead she’d come home to a faceless village and had been made a ghost among her own people.

“Rayla.” Callum breathes out patiently. The bed groans as he gets up to join her, his footsteps quiet upon the stones. “You want to go.”

It’s not a question. There’s a surety in the softness of Callum’s voice that makes the inkling in her heart suddenly more solid and more tangible than it ever has been before. Rayla pauses. She’s got a boot half-way on, but he pries it out of her fingers and holds her hands carefully within his. 

“You wouldn’t be hesitating this much if you really _didn’t_ want to go.”

Rayla grimaces. “It’s not whether or not I want to, Callum,” she grumbles. “It’s whether or not I _should_.”

He cocks his head at her. “Why shouldn’t you?” he asks. The question is genuine, the little wrinkle of confusion on his face real. “You’ve been pardoned by Queen Zubeia, the spell’s been lifted for years, your parents and Runaan and Ethari want to see you - there’s no reason you shouldn’t.”

“Not to you,” mutters Rayla. “To you, it’s that simple, but there are _other_ people in the Silvergrove - people I grew up with who - who -” She grimaces. She’s not sure she’d call them friends, because they weren’t. Not really. Not the way Callum and Ezran and even Soren have taught her friends are supposed to be. But she still grew up with them, and it was their loved ones who’d gone on that mission with her. Loved ones who hadn’t come back because she’d -

She shakes her head. “Not everyone’s as forgiving as Ethari and Runaan,” she murmurs instead. “It’s… not a good idea, Callum.”

“Then say no,” he says. 

Rayla hides a grimace in the way she turns to pick her boot off the floor. It’s a valid response. A perfectly reasonable answer given the circumstances. Easy enough that she could do it right now and have it over and done with. But she hears the taunt in words - the _dare_ in the simplicity of the sentence -

_Then say no._

“I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Callum raises an eyebrow at her. An _‘or’_ hangs heavy in the air between them. He doesn’t actually need to voice it - Rayla knows exactly what he wants to say because it’s the reason she _hasn’t_ just said ‘ _no’_ -

The truth is that she _doesn’t want to_ . It’s been years since she last celebrated the Solstice, and longer still since she celebrated it with her whole family intact. Mum and Dad hadn’t come home the Solstice before the war ended - they were probably already trapped in those coins, and disgraced, anyway, for abandoning their posts when they actually hadn’t. After that… well… she’s still in the ‘after-that’ of things, and she’s been avoiding this problem for four years now by claiming Callum and Ezran had already booked her winter break solid. It’s a poor excuse. The height of the Yule Festival isn’t for a week and a half after the Solstice, and there’s _really_ no reason she hasn’t been able to do both. 

But the thought of it - of attending the Wintermoon Feast with her family - her _whole_ family - safe and whole and healthy; of _finally_ being able to share her childhood and her traditions with Callum; of Dad’s lame jokes and the smell of Ethari’s homebrewed Moonberry cider - 

How can she refuse that?

How can she deny herself the opportunity to spend the Solstice with her family for the first time in what feels like forever?

She heaves a sigh. “Do you think Ezran will want to come?” she asks at last.

Callum blinks at her. His back straightens. His eyes light up. His face splits into a grin so wide it’s almost blinding to look at. “ _Would he?_ ” he laughs. “Rayla, he’s been wanting to see the Silvergrove for years. He’d _love_ to come. It’s just… are you _sure?_ ”

“No,” snorts Rayla. “Not at all.” It comes out rueful. Scared. But she swallows anyway and snatches a couple of Ethari’s arrows off the nightstand. “But I want to see my family. My _whole_ family. At least that way… I dunno. If my village still hates me, at least I’ll have you two.”

Callum makes a face at her. “They _won’t_ still hate you,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But you’ll always have us.”

Her lips twitch upwards at that. 

x

Normal letters come to Ezran through the Crow Lord. They arrive in his tower throughout the day, and he collects them and peruses them and summarises their contents for Ez the following morning. Lately, he’s been having the Crow Master do it more often - Ez gets the feeling he wants to retire already.

It’s not the most riveting part of his day. A lot of it is finance. Sometimes it’s complaints. He gets the odd letter from Aanya every now and then - those are always pleasant - but most days, it’s a struggle to get through them. Opeli’s caught him nodding off halfway through a letter more than once, and although she doesn’t scold him for it, her disapproval is pretty clear in her eyes.

Letters from Xadia - or, more specifically, from Callum and Rayla - come to him directly. Those are less predictable. They like to send them with cool birds. Last time it was a sun hawk, courtesy of Aunt Amaya’s friend (girlfriend? They’re not so clear about that yet) Janai. The time before that, it was a storm swallow, and before that, it was a moon owl. It’s their way of bringing the magic to him - of letting them know that they’re thinking of him, and of making sure he still gets to have a little bit of an adventure even though he can’t really leave.

The birds have interesting stories. He likes to ask them questions about Xadia before they fly off again, and in exchange, he gives them bits off the end of his jelly tart. The only downside is that there are fewer birds willing to fly across the continent in the winter, which means their letters get less frequent as the days grow cold. 

It’s fine. They come home for the winter anyway. A few weeks without hearing from them is a small price to pay for to be able to spend the Yule Festival with them at the Banther Lodge. 

The first snow started to fall in Katolis a few days ago, so he doesn’t really expect to hear from them until they turn up in the capital themselves in a couple of weeks - which is why it’s so surprising when a white shadow hawk swoops through his study window late one afternoon. 

The arrow that carries it thuds into the wall, and Ezran yelps and almost falls out of his chair as the hawk de-materialises into the air in wisps of white smoke. On the desk, Bait groans, irritable and grumpy as always, but moreso because his nap’s been disturbed. He grumbles, nosing at the parchment tied to shaft of the arrow and nudging it out of its tie until it falls to the desk. 

Ez clutches at his chest, his breathing heavy, and he swallows as he tries to settle the pounding of his heart. “A - a letter?” he gasps, starting forward. “Did you say from Rayla?”

Bait rumbles, nudging the parchment a little more until it unrolls enough for Ezran to see Rayla’s slender handwriting. 

Ez brightens, and when his heart picks up the pace again, it does so in excitement. He grabs at the letter, his fingers clumsy and earnest, and he reads over her message once, twice, three times, before he fully realizes what it is.

“She wants us to go the Silvergrove with her!” he tells Bait, grinning. “Just for a few days. Before the Yule Festival so we can join her and her family for something called the Wintermoon Feast? On the Solstice or something - Bait, this is the best news ever! Think Opeli will let us go a week early?”

Bait gives him a look. _Doubtful_ , it looks like he wants to say, but he’s not so grumpy that Ez can’t see his excitement too. Bait’s a lazy glow toad by most standards, but Ez is pretty sure he’d trade another adventure for palace life any day. He misses Zym, loathe as he is to admit it, and he misses Callum and Rayla too, as much as he pretends he doesn’t. 

Ez chuckles at his faux-reluctance. “Sure, sure,” he laughs. “You can stay if you like. I won’t make you go if you don’t want to.”

Bait groans.

“Yeah,” snorts Ez. “That’s what I thought. It’s only a week. I don’t think Opeli will care that much.”

“About what, Your Majesty?”

Ez glances up.

Opeli’s standing in the doorway of his study. She’s probably here to fetch him for his last meeting before dinner, stern as always, but curious nonetheless.

Ez brandishes Rayla’s letter at her and climbs out of his chair. “Rayla wants me and Callum and Bait to join her and her family at something called the Wintermoon Feast. I think it’s the Moonshadow version of, like, the Yule Festival. It’s in her village on the eve of the Winter Solstice. Can I go?”

Opeli studies him. She doesn’t _really_ want to let him go - the year hasn’t quite wrapped up yet, and more than that, it’s always dangerous for him to go anywhere - even if it’s only the Banther Lodge for the Yule Festival every year. Ez gets it. This peace is tentative at best, and he’s a fourteen year old king who’s even _worse_ than Callum in combat. (Soren’s trying to teach him. So far, his progress has been slow). The Silvergrove is… risky. _So_ risky, because, somehow, he has to get there, and once he _is_ there, he’ll disappear into Moonshadow territory with only his brother and Rayla to keep him safe.

It’s not like Opeli doesn’t trust Callum and Rayla. She’s just the stern mother he never had who’ll worry over him about everything.

But she doesn’t say no. She’s reluctant, and she _wants_ to but - and Ez realizes this too late - she _can’t_ say no. He’s the king, and he’s coming into his own now, and if he wants to go, she can’t - and won’t - stop him.

She shifts uncomfortably. “You should rephrase, Your Majesty.”

Ez blinks, not quite understanding at first, but it clicks after a moment. She’s been encouraging him to be more assertive lately. Reminding him in her own way that she’s only his advisor, and not his parent, or even his regent. He’s the king. He doesn’t need permission.

“Oh,” he says. “Um. I’m going?”

“Once more, Your Majesty.”

Ez clears his throat, putting his king voice on. “I’m going to the Silvergrove for the Solstice,” he tries again. “If - if we can afford for me to go that is. And I’m taking Corvus as an escort until I can rendezvous with Callum and Rayla.” He shrugs half-heartedly and looks to her for approval, and Opeli’s lips quirk upwards into an amused sort-of smile.

“May I be honest, Your Majesty?”

“You can always be honest, Opeli.”

She scoffs. “I’d rather you didn’t go,” she says. “It’s dangerous. The Silvergrove is foreign territory, and while your brother and the Lady Rayla -”

“You know she hates it when people call her that.”

“- are capable enough to keep you safe, I am concerned that something may happen that will be out of their control.”

Ez takes a breath. She’s right. He knows she is. “It’s a show of trust,” he says carefully. “The war’s over. We shouldn’t be so wary of each other. And friendship is better forged in shared celebration than in treaties.”

“Wise words,” says Opeli. “It’s still a risk, Your Majesty. An unnecessary one. But -” She sighs. “I trust your judgement.” She offers him a smile with that. “There are a few issues yet that we must discuss before the end of the year, but if Your Majesty so desires, we can prioritise those and reschedule the rest. When do you wish to leave?”

Ez grins at her, pleased. “At the end of the week? It takes a little while to get into Xadia, even on horseback.”

“I’ll notify the council.” Opeli nods at him, obviously still reluctant, obviously beleaguered, but she bows anyway and argues no more. “One more meeting tonight, Your Majesty. Then the rest of the evening is yours to write a reply, if you so wish.” 

Ez’s grin widens. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Of course, sire.”

She bows herself out of his study and shuts the door behind her, but Ez waits til she’s out of earshot anyway before he lets out the thrilled whoop building in his throat.He seizes Bait off the desk, hugging him to his chest along with Rayla’s letter, and stamps his feet excitedly against the flagstones. “We’re going to the Silvergrove, Bait! We’re gonna see Callum and Rayla early!”

Bait grumbles against him - a sad kind of sound - but Ez laughs. He knows an excited glow toad when he hears it.

x

Lain and Tiadrin receive their daughter’s letter at nightfall. They’d sent her four letters in desperation. She’s refused every offer so far, and for a moment, there was a very _real_ chance she might refuse this too, even after Runaan had spoken to her prince - even after their collective insistence.

But Ethari’s arrow thuds into the wall as the sun sinks below the horizon, and Tiadrin scrambles for her reply, a relieved chuckle escaping her lips in a way that lets Lain know immediately, and without her having to read it out to him, what it says.

“She’s coming?”

“Yes,” says Tiadrin, slumping in her chair with a sigh. “Oh, my dear,” she murmurs, holding the letter to her chest. “At last. Our little girl’s coming home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me forever, team! More to come hopefully in less time than it took me to write this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mum tugs her into her arms, her embrace tight. “Rayla,” she croaks. “Oh, my darling, we’ve missed you so much.”

iii.

  
  
  


“So she’s coming back, then?” Faeran wrinkles her nose, displeased. 

Ethari takes it in stride. Faeran is displeased by everything nowadays. She’s been an elder in the Silvergrove for too long now, and she’s grown old and jaded and averse to change. The lines along her face are tired and made more pronounced by the sneer that twists her lips, her pale blue eyes narrowed in impatience, but it was her voice that had held up the council and had given him - them -  _ Rayla _ \- a chance to stop this decision from being made.

“Yes,” he tells her, watching the way she shuffles around her apothecary, her staff clunking dully against the wood of her floor. “I thank you again, Faeran. She deserves this, at the very least.”

Faeran snorts. “I’m surprised she considered it at all. Moon and Stars know I wouldn’t, if I were her. This may not go as smoothly as you think it will.”

“I don’t expect it to go smoothly at all,” says Ethari. He shifts uncomfortably and ducks his head. “She’s bringing some friends.”

“Oh?”

Ethari coughs. “Human friends,” he elaborates. “The human Sky Mage and his brother, the King of Katolis.”

Faeran scowls at him, her lips pulled downwards in an irritated frown. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

“She won’t come without them,” says Ethari quickly. “They’re trustworthy boys. They’re family to her as much as Runaan and I are.”

“They’re  _ outsiders _ ,” she snarls. “The rest of the village is already wary of her, and there are elves here who would prefer she never came back at all. What do you expect to happen when she walks into the Silvergrove with two  _ humans _ in tow?”

“The war’s  _ over _ ,” snaps Ethari. “Those  _ humans _ are heroes as much as she, and prejudice against them will only work against us - our whole village - in the long run.”

“Bringing them will work against  _ her. _ She knows how precarious her situation is, doesn’t she?”

Ethari hesitates. He glances at the floor, avoiding piercing blue of Faeran’s gaze and the disapproval within it, but it’s too late. His lack of response is all she needs to figure it out on her own.

“You haven’t told her,” she says, unimpressed. 

“If we did, she’d have no reason to consider coming back at all,” mutters Ethari. “It’s not fair to her, Faeran. You know it. She deserves better than this.”

Faeran snorts and turns away from him. “That’s not for you to decide,” she grumbles, shuffling back to her workbench. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Ethari. All four of you.”

Ethari has nothing to say to that.

x

“If I may, My King, are you sure these directions are right?”

Ez makes a face. Xadia’s different in the winter. It’s just as beautiful, and just as magical, but the wood is sleepy, and the blanket of undisturbed snow on the boughs and on the ground presses a hush against his ears. He’s been frowning at Callum’s hand drawn map and Rayla’s directions for about ten minutes now, and Corvus, in turn, has been frowning at him, a little uncertain.

He’s learnt a lot of things since he became king. Soren’s been teaching him how to fight (sort of - Ez’s progress is slow, but he’s learning nonetheless); Opeli’s been teaching him philosophy and ethics; Aanya’s been (indirectly) teaching him the ins and outs of court and politics; and, among other things, Corvus has been teaching him how to navigate.

It’s not really a skill he  _ needs _ \- Ez could have anyone navigate for him, if he really wanted them to, but it’s a skill he  _ wants _ for the sake of practicality. He doesn’t like being waited on for other things, and he certainly doesn’t like the idea of being lost in the woods, in the unfortunate and unlikely event that he ever is, and there are no animals to help him along. Being king is not a reason to not be self-sufficient, and, in any case, there are a lot of things he likes doing for himself. 

This is one of them.

He likes to think he’s getting pretty good at it, but he stares at Rayla’s directions, and then at their surroundings, and then at Rayla’s directions again before he holds the parchment out to Corvus and throws his hands up in the air in defeat. “This is where Rayla said to go,” he says helplessly. “We followed her instructions exactly, I dunno where we went wrong!”

Corvus purses his lips. Ez can practically see him retracing their steps in his mind, but his brow furrows too, just as confused. “Well, the clearing’s there,” he says. “And we definitely crossed the Silver Meadow, and we followed this bough for half a mile, like she said.” He frowns deepens and he scratches uncertainly at his beard. “There’s nothing here.”

“You don’t think she meant a different bough, do you?”

Corvus shakes his head and hands the parchment back. “Her Ladyship’s instructions are very clear.”

“Don’t let her hear you calling her that.” Ez sighs, slumping a little on his horse, his fingers going numb around the reigns beneath his gloves. They’d crossed the border early this morning, and it’s only a little past noon, so they’ve got time to double back if they need to. He just hopes that they don’t need to. It’s cold, and his filly is agitated. The sooner they find the Silvergrove, the better. In any case,  _ he _ might still be learning to navigate, but Corvus had read those instructions too, and Crovus doesn’t mess up - not when it comes to things like this. “I guess there’s nothing to do but wait,” he says at last, climbing gingerly off his horse. The filly stamps nervously, but Ez shushes her and pats affectionately at her nose. “If we’re in the right place, they’ll turn up. If not… eh. You can head back if you like. I’ll wait for them here.”

Corvus frowns at him, his lips a thin line, his disapproval obvious. “I’ll stay.”

Ez snorts to himself. He doesn’t know why expected any different. Corvus and Opeli have become something like surrogate parents to him, and they’ll worry over everything on his behalf. The chances are he  _ will _ be fine, and he can find his way to shelter, and even back to Katolis, if he needs to, even all the way out here, but he gets it nonetheless. He doesn’t argue.

The snowfall is light. It snows in Katolis too, but it’s nothing like this. Bait grumbles at it - he’s sitting in the saddle still, grumpy as always (he’s never liked the cold anyway) but even he agrees that this is better by far. In Katolis, it buckets down overnight and everything is an icy, crispy mess by morning but this - this is  _ magical _ in every sense of the word. This is gentle. Delicate. A graceful flurry of little flakes that dust his nose and his shoulders like powdered sugar. The sleepy quiet it brings is comforting, and even the muffled crunch of boots in the snow does little to disrupt the peace.

Crunch?

Ez blinks. 

Corvus hears it too, and he climbs off his horse, fingers brushing against the hook and chain at his hip, tense and at the ready. And then - 

“Ez!”

He hears them before he sees them. Callum’s voice rings in the relative silence, and Ez turns, grins, and has enough time to open his arms before Callum practically swoops out of nowhere and tackles him off his feet. They land in the snow in a mess of limbs and laughter and the next thing Ez knows is Rayla, leaning over them both, amused little grin on her face.

“Hey there, Your Majesty,” she teases, hands on her hips. “Hi Corvus,” she adds, looking to her left. “Sorry to sneak up on you.”

Corvus smirks at her. “I knew it was you.”

“Did you now?”

“His Highness gave you away.”

She laughs at that, prodding Callum with the toe of her boot. “Hear that, Callum? You’re still terrible at stealth.”

“I wasn’t trying,” chuckles Callum, untangling himself from Ez at last. He gets to his feet with a huff, a hand offered to Ez, before he tugs him to him once more and ruffles the hair on his brother’s head. “You’re taller than I remember,” he says, grinning. “Look at this, you’re almost as tall as me!”

“I’ll be taller than both of you one day,” says Ez, fighting off Callum with a laugh. 

“Not taller than me,” snorts Rayla.

Callum smirks at her. “ _ I’m  _ taller than you.”

“ _ Horns count, _ ” she sneers. She waves Callum away with a chuckle and offers Ez a hug in his stead, her arms open wide, her smile warm and familiar. “We missed you,” she says fondly.

“I missed you guys too,” giggles Ez, hugging her back. “It’s lonely in the castle without you guys, but I think you know that. You should visit more.”

“We’re working on it,” says Rayla. “C’mon. You must be cold. Let’s get you warmed up, hey? Corvus, you wanna come?”

They stare at her - him and Corvus both - their confusion returning with her offer. 

“Um,” says Ez. “About that. We wondered if maybe we’d gone wrong somewhere? There’s… nothing here.”

“Nah. You got here, so you’re obviously in the right place. Did I not mention the spell?”

Ez cocks his head at her. “Spell?”

“It’s Xadia, Ez,” says Callum, amused. “Everything’s got a spell.”

“Sorry.” Rayla chuckles sheepishly, brushing the snow off the bough with her boot. It’s piled up enough that it brushes against the hem of her cloak - Callum’s cloak, Ez notices - and she purses her lips and works at it until they can see the wood beneath it all. “It’s an illusion,” she explains as she goes. “You need a key to see through it. And this key is a dance.”

“A what?”

“It’s easy,” promises Rayla. “Even Callum could do it.” She ignores his pout and turns to Corvus. “You can come with if you like?”

Corvus looks between them, thoughtful and uncertain. Ez has been around him long enough to know that face - to him, he thinks he’s intruding on friends -  _ family _ \- reunited after months of being apart. Rayla’s offer is genuine. It’s not out of pity or gratitude for seeing Ez so far along - he’s a friend too. It’s just not the  _ same _ , and Ez knows what his answer will be long before he even opens his mouth.

“I think I should head back,” he says after a moment. “His Majesty is safe now, and if I get moving now, I may make it past the border again before nightfall.”

Rayla frowns at him. “Are you sure? It’s a long journey, even on horseback.”

“I’m sure,” says Corvus. “Thank you for the offer, My Lady.”

“ _ Excuse you? _ ” 

“Rayla,” Corvus correct quickly. He hides his smirk in the bow he offers to Ezran and mounts back up looking hesitant to invoke any  _ real _ wrath. “Have a good time You Majesty. Your Highness. I’ll see you at the Lodge in a week or so.”

“Thanks again, Corvus,” bids Ez. “See you!”

He bows once more, and they wait, watching him ride away on his stallion - a spot of colour on a backdrop of silver and white - before Ez turns back to Rayla with an eager, excited smile. 

“So this dance…” he begins curiously, taking Bait off his filly. 

Rayla catches Callum’s eye - a little nervously, if Ez says so himself. He might not spend as much time with her as Callum, but he knows her well enough to catch that spark of uneasiness in her eyes. But Callum nods at her, his smile reassuring, and she grins at them both and takes a breath. “It’s more a of a ritual,” she says to Ez. “But it’s easy nonetheless. Just do what we do.”

x

Ez picks it up quickly. Not so secretly, Rayla’s pretty impressed. He’s much more graceful than his brother, and while Soren says he’s  _ worse  _ at combat than Callum, he’s, at the very least, more coordinated. Callum’s only ever done this once before, and he’s better this time, but he still stumbles over his own feet and nearly falls off the bough.

The Silvergrove materializes in the clearing below them as Rayla brings the ritual to a close. To her left, Ez breathes in a gasp, eyes wide with wonder. To her right, Callum touches her hand and squeezes just so - just enough to promise her that everything’s going to be fine - but she doesn’t quite believe him until they climb carefully down the bough and her people’s faces come into view.

Her breath hitches. 

They’re all there. Their faces are clear, and their markings are bright, even from this distance, and there, at the foot of the great root - 

“Mum,” she whispers. “Dad.”

They grin at her. Catch her as she slips the rest of the way. Dad’s smile is wide and welcoming. Mum doesn’t even try to hide how much she missed her. There’s a moment where they hesitate, just a little. Like they can’t believe she’s really  _ home _ at long,  _ long _ last, and, honestly, Rayla can’t believe it either. 

It’s been  _ years.  _ The last time she was here, she was a ghost to her people, and now - 

Mum tugs her into her arms, her embrace tight. “Rayla,” she croaks. “Oh, my darling, we’ve missed you so much.”

Rayla almost breaks.  _ Almost. _ It’s been so long. Vaguely, she feels Dad’s arms circle her and Mum both, and she sighs, swallowing the lump in her throat with a relieved little laugh. “I missed you too,” she admits. “Both of you. You don’t visit enough.”

“Speak for yourself,” says Dad, pressing a kiss to her hair. “We visit  _ you _ plenty.  _ You _ don’t visit enough.”

“Touche,” chuckles Rayla. She pries herself from their arms and blinks the tears from her eyes, determined not to let her feelings get the better of her. “Sorry,” she adds, mostly to Callum and Ez. She’d almost forgotten about them. She beckons them forward. “You know Callum. This is his brother, His Majesty, King Ezran.”

“Just Ez is fine,” says Ez with a smile. “Hi, by the way. It’s nice to finally meet you!”

Mum and Dad hesitate a second time - this time, it’s not so obvious why. Rayla has a hunch that it has something to do with that mission she was sent on, but if that is what it is, they don’t say anything about it. They bow.

“It’s nice to finally meet you too,” says Dad kindly. “We’ve heard a lot about you. My name is Lain. This is my wife, Tiadrin.”

“It’s a pleasure, Your Majesty,” says Mum. She pauses as rises again, looking between the boys and Rayla like she’s trying to measure them up. It’s not prejudice - Rayla knows that sort of look all too well now. It’s more like she’s studying them. Gauging their proximity to her daughter and trying to get a read on how well they’ve treated her in her and Dad’s absence. In the end, she beckons them both forward with a smile. “Rayla says you’re like family to her,” she says. “Which means you’re family to us. Come. It’s cold out here. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Ez bounds forward earnestly, letting Dad lead his filly so he can introduce Bait to Mum. 

Callum lags behind and lets his fingers find hers. “Are you okay?” 

Rayla nods, swallowing once more. “I’m fine,” she murmurs, and she means it. “Better than fine, even.” She takes a breath. “I’m  _ home. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah guys im in love with lain and tiadrin im so excited they get to be in this story


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla comes first.

iv.

  
  
  


It’s a good evening, if Callum does say so himself.

Rayla’s childhood home is cosy - nothing like the castle he and Ez grew up in. It’s wooden floors and homey rooms are warm and inviting, offering respite from the winter chill; there’s a fire roaring away in the hearth that Lain had got going before they’d set off to meet them at the entrance to the Silvergrove; and her parents take their human-ness and awe in stride, happy to answer Ez’s _many_ questions, and eager to ask their own.

Tiadrin takes Ezran’s filly out back - there’s a pile of hay and a fleece blanket usually reserved for Ethari’s Shadowpaw waiting for her out there which Ezran tells her is very much appreciated. Lain sets to work on dinner (“I’m the better cook,” he tells Callum quietly, “but don’t tell Tiadrin that.”), his fingers swift and practised, and it’s not long before the house is filled with the fragrance of Rayla’s favourite stew. 

“You guys didn’t have to go to this much trouble,” Callum tells them, flattered but grateful all the same.

“Yes we did,” Lain argues. “Look at how well you’ve been taking care of our daughter all these years. How can we do anything less?”

Rayla rolls her eyes at them, a little embarrassed by their efforts, but Callum knows her well enough now to know that it puts her at ease to see her found family getting along so well with her biological one. She disappears down the hall once Lain makes it clear he doesn’t need them, and sets their things in her old room, and in the spare room across from it.

“It’s smaller than I remember,” she muses, sitting gingerly on the bed. _Her_ bed. The one she’d slept in in her youth. 

“You were smaller too,” teases Callum. He sighs deeply, a content smile settling on his lips. She’d been so tense before. Her whole body had seemed stiff and ungraceful while they’d followed her parents through the snow-covered paths of the Silvergrove, but here, she’s different. Younger somehow, if still a little hesitant to _truly_ believe she’s _home._ He gets it - he’s gone home only a handful of times himself and it’s surreal to _him_ , so he can only imagine what it’s like for her. He seats himself next to her, the mattress dipping gently under his weight. 

“I just… I can’t even get my head around it,” she confesses. “It’s been so long.”

“I know.” Callum grins at her and presses a kiss into the back of her hand. “Are - um - Runaan and Ethari…?”

“They’ll join us later, I think,” she says. “Ethari’s probably still at the forge, and Runaan… Mum said he might be at the healer’s until after sundown. His - his arm’s -” She cuts herself off. Something like guilt flashes across her face, and Callum squeezes her hand just that little bit tighter to remind her that that’s over with now, and that Runaan’s long since forgiven her for it.

“He wanted you home just as much as your mom and dad did,” he says quietly. 

“I know.” Rayla takes a breath. “Callum,” she starts. “I know how you and Ez feel about him and -”

Callum shakes his head. “We’re not here for him. We’re here for _you._ This can’t be easy, so we can put whatever feelings we have about each other aside for now - what matters is that _you’re_ okay. ” 

She scoffs at him, but the smile she offers him in return is grateful. “Thank you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I just… can’t believe I’m really home.”

“I can,” says Callum brightly. “And look how well it’s been going so far! You’ve been un-ghosted, and your parents are super nice - I dunno what you were worried about to begin with!”

She giggles at that, and Callum relishes it. He kisses her nose, pleased that she’s feeling better, and then her cheeks, and then her lips, and he considers, for a moment, pulling her to him to celebrate her relief with more affection when they're interrupted by a knock against Rayla’s bedroom door.

“You two can’t keep your hands off each other for a second, can you?”

The voice is smug. Too smug to be Lain’s, too deep to be Tiadrin’s, and too accented to be Ezran’s. Rayla pulls away, just a smidge flushed, her lips tilting into a grin in recognition as she gets to her feet. 

“Ethari!”

Ethari grins back. “Rayla,” he greets, arms open for a hug. “Look at you,” he says, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I remember when I used to braid your hair like this, but it looks like you don’t need me for that anymore. I’m so happy to see you home.”

Even from the bed, Callum hears her swallow. “It’s good to _be_ home,” she says. There’s a tremble in her voice that she only _just_ manages to hide - Callum suspects that if he knew her any less, he might not have noticed it at all. But she hugs Ethari tightly anyway, unspeakably happy to see him, and over her shoulder, Ethari inclines his head in the best bow he can manage with her in his arms.

“Your Highness.”

Callum chuckles and waves him off. “You know that’s not necessary.”

Ethari shrugs, his smirk cheeky as he pries himself from Rayla, and beside him - 

“Runaan!”

“Rayla.” Runaan smiles at her, and it’s the kindest Callum’s ever seen his face in the handful of times he’s met him. His eyes are tired and his prosthetic arm - one forged and enchanted by Ethari - hangs limply at his side, even as he pulls Rayla to him. 

“You’re early,” Rayla’s saying. “Mum said you wouldn’t be here until after sundown.”

“And miss my own niece’s homecoming? I think not.” His embrace is fond. There’s not a trace of resentment in his actions, or in his eyes, or in his smile - there’s only the look of a father-figure who’d missed his surrogate daughter more than he knows how to say. But he catches Callum’s eye over Rayla’s shoulder, and his smile flickers.

Callum’s shoulders tense, just for a moment. There are memories there. Bitter ones - that night on the rooftop; the arrow aimed at him and Ezran; the death of their father at Runaan’s own hands - but his eyes shift to Rayla, and he releases the breath hitched in his throat.

“Your Highness,” greets Runaan, as Rayla eases away from him. “It’s good to see you.”

Callum breathes in. “It’s good to see you too,” he says. There’s still tension in the air, but Ethari frowns at them both - _behave_ , he seems to say - and the moment passes. “How’s your… um…”

“Better by the day,” Runaan says, gesturing vaguely at his arm. To Rayla, he adds, “Your father says that dinner’s just about ready. Why don’t you go and get Tiadrin and His Majesty?”

Rayla hesitates. Glances between Runaan and Callum and back again, wary of the idea of leaving them in the same room without her supervision.

Callum rolls his eyes at her. “Go,” he says. “I’ll be good. Mage’s honour.”

“Not so reassuring from a _human_ mage,” says Runaan dryly.

It’s a joke, obviously. Admittedly, it’s kind of funny on its own - there’s an impish glint in the sea-green of Runaan’s eyes that makes it clear that’s what it is, and that it’s his version of trying to defuse the awkward stillness in the atmosphere, but it’s replaced quickly by a panic that screams _too soon! Too soon!_ that wears away at Callum’s defenses.

He laughs.

Then Etharis’ laughing, and Runaan manages a relieved twitch of his lips before Rayla breathes a sigh of relief herself.

“You’re all hopeless,” she says, rolling her own eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t keep Dad waiting then. I won’t be long.” 

She disappears down the hall, and when the laughter dies down, Ethari wipes the smile from his face to give both of them a _look_ . “That _was_ meant as a joke, wasn’t it?”

“ _Clearly_ ,” says Runaan, looking offended. “His Highness got it. You’re not offended, are you, er…”

“Just call me Callum,” says Callum, waving him off. “Ethari. It’s fine. We’ll behave.”

Ethari scowls at them both. “You two are going to be the death of me, and you’ll have me dead before the Feast,” he snaps. “You’d _better_ behave. You _know_ what’s at stake here.”

The air grows serious. Callum catches Runaan’s eye, because they _do_ know what’s at stake here - Runaan had spoken to him about it personally, and any animosity between them won’t help. They’re here for _Rayla_ , he reminds himself. Whatever happens, whatever resentment still lies between them - none of it matters for the next week. Rayla comes first. 

He nods.

Runaan nods.

It’s still stilted. Still awkward. But there’s understanding there, and that’s more important than anything. 

“It’s fine,” says Callum again. “We’re good. Right?”

“Right,” says Runaan.

_Rayla comes first._

x

At some point over dinner, Tiadrin decides she likes Ezran. She likes Callum too, but she’d adopted him in her mind long ago - when he’d freed her and Lain and Runaan from their coins, and it became clear what her daughter meant to him, and what he meant to her. This is her first time meeting Ezran, and she decides before dessert that he’s more than worth adopting too.

He’s a sweet kid - good with animals and without a single resentful bone in his body. She knows the story; knows what happened to his father and by whose hand he fell, and if he dislikes Runaan for it at all (which would be completely understandable), he doesn’t show it. He’s curious, and kind, and polite, and more than all of this, he treats Rayla like the older sister he never had.

She supposes that makes sense. Callum looks at her daughter like she puts the very stars in the sky, so it wouldn’t surprise her at all if they decided to legally bind themselves to each other for the rest of their lives (as if they haven’t already bound themselves to each other in their hearts and in their minds), but the point is, Tiadrin’s happy for them, and she’s glad that, of all the people Rayla could have failed to assassinate, Ezran was one of them. 

Their conversations turn from their respective adventures to first meetings and first loves. She was Lain’s first, she tells them, because he’d been an idiot for most of their youth and hadn’t realized she’d pined for him until she gave up allowed others to court her in his stead. Runaan and Ethari have only ever had eyes for each other, Ethari says, even though Runaan is reluctant to admit that he’s nothing but a big softie on the inside.

Callum tells his and Rayla’s story carefully. It’s easily the most complicated, and there are a lot of things about it that they don’t particularly want to talk about over dinner, but he does tell them that he first kissed her on the back of an ambler in the Midnight Desert. 

“She was just… kind of amazing,” he says, grinning stupidly at her. “This Skywing elf betrayed us and kidnapped Zym and left us stranded in the Central Oasis, and Rayla _still_ saved her life.”

“You’re very smitten with her, aren’t you?” teases Ethari.

“As he _should_ be,” says Lain, matter-of-factly.

Ezran makes a face at all of them. “It’s kinda gross, actually,” he says. “They literally don’t know how not to be saps. Can you _believe_ they forgot to tell me they were a _thing_?”

“It wasn’t exactly a huge priority at the time,” says Rayla helplessly, hiding her embarrassment behind her hands.

“You still forgot,” says Ez, smirking at her.

Tiadrin cocks her head at them. “How, exactly, did you find out then?”

“They made out on the steps of the Storm Spire,” Ezran tells her, shovelling another spoonful of Moonberry Surprise past his lips. “They forgot I was there.”

“We _didn’t_ ,” argues Callum, only he looks well past embarrassed now too. “We almost _died_ , Ez. We were just grateful to not be, y’know, dead. Give it, like, a year or two. You’ll get it.”

“Hopefully without the almost-dying part though,” adds Rayla dryly.

The rest of the table chortles into their dessert, and not for the first time that night, Tiadrin catches Lain’s eye and rubs his thumb under the table. This is wonderful. It’s everything they wanted for their daughter, _and more_ \- she’s happy, and healthy, and loved, and the world is at peace, largely thanks to her and the two human boys who decided - and quite gladly too - to be part of her family. 

“They’re our boys now,” she tells Lain, after Runaan and Ethari have gone home, and after Rayla and the boys have gone to bed. It’s just her and Lain left at the table, mugs of Cinnamoon tea between their palms. 

“Not that I don’t agree,” says Lain, “but you can’t just adopt Rayla’s friends like that.”

“Why can’t I?” she asks. “They adopted her. They treat her like she’s been part of their family for years. In some ways, she has been.”

Lain snorts into his mug. “I’m happy for her,” he says quietly. “She deserves it. They all do, after what they’ve been through. I just wish the circumstances were different.”

“They are what they are,” grumbles Tiadrin. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what we have to do, Lain, Rayla grew up here. She deserves to call this place home. I’m not letting the council do this to her again.”

“ _We’re_ not,” he corrects, scowling stubbornly at his tea. “She’s a hero. They all are, and this… _decision_ the council wants to make - it’s stupid, Tia, no one’s disputing that. We’ll stop this. We _will_.”

“She should know,” mutters Tiadrin. “She has the _right_ to know.”

“If she finds out, she won’t stay.” Lain gives her a _look_ over his mug. “Would _you_ , if you were her, and you found out what they were trying to do?”

Tiadrin scowls. “No,” she says. “I wouldn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey @raayllum, I hear you wanted Tiadrin to adopt Cal and Ez, this good enough for u?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your Highness,” he mocks. “And Your Majesty, I presume. How lovely to meet the reasons my brother is dead.”

v.

  
  
  


It’s been a long time, thinks Rayla, since she’s felt so at peace. It’s true that the war’s been over for years now, and she’s been sleeping in the same bed as Callum for about as long, and it’s not to say she hasn’t been happy - this is just different. It’s a sleepy sort of peace that settles in her bones; one so restful she feels like she’s six again, and Mum and Dad haven’t left, and things are innocent and calm and uncomplicated. 

She wakes the next morning before dawn. It’s still dark outside - but then, she supposes, it’s always dark outside in the Silvergrove - she’d just forgotten about its many,  _ many _ enchantments. It’s still snowing outside, but the warmth in her old bedroom is familiar and pleasant. Callum’s steady breathing tickles the back of her neck, his chest pressed neatly against her back, his arm idle around her waist. It’s not often he plays the role of the big spoon, but she’d needed it last night, she thinks. There’s something… vulnerable around feeling so safe. It’s hard to believe she’s home, and it feels a little like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Still, she hasn’t slept so well since she was a child, and she hums contentedly as she pries herself out of his embrace to sit up. 

He stirs. His little ‘ _ mm _ ’ of discontent is cute but he doesn’t wake. Rayla chuckles at him. She presses a kiss into his hair - a silent sort-of  _ thank you _ for being so understanding and supportive about this whole thing - and climbs out of bed.

Ez is still snoozing away in the other room, but Bait’s awake and curious. She catches him watching her curiously through the crack in the bedroom door, and Rayla smiles and opens the door a little wider for him.

“Hungry?” she asks quietly.

Bait turns himself orange - his fond colours, Ez had told her once - grumbling only a little as he stumbles off Ezran’s back and out of the bed. 

There’s movement in the kitchen already. It’s not so strange to Rayla - Mum and Dad were always up early in her youth, it’s just odd to find it all so familiar and not at the same time - but even amidst the sound of her own footsteps, and Bait’s gentle shuffle against the hardwood, it’s hard to mistake Dad’s low hum for anyone else’s. It smells like bread this morning. It’s warm and sweet and strangely comforting all at once, and when she gets there, she finds the table already set with jars of Starplum jam and Moonberry juice. 

“You’re up early,” greets Dad, his hands still white with flour. 

“So are you,” says Rayla, setting Bait on the table. “Did you sleep at all?”

Dad shrugs. “A little. But someone has to feed you and your boys, and we both know it has to be me if your mother and I want to impress.”

Rayla snorts at that. “You don’t have to impress.”

“Yes, we do. We want them to  _ like _ us.” He gives her a look. “Is it too early too presume they might be our in-laws one day?”

“Um.” Rayla flushes. It’s an odd thing to flush about - she and Callum have discussed it enough times to know that it’s not too early to presume that at all. But it  _ is _ something only  _ they _ have discussed. No one else has ever brought it up in conversation until now. “I mean, I guess not,” she says, only a little awkwardly. “But they’re impressed enough. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“We’re not trying so hard so much as we are just happy that you’re home.” Dad offers her a smile and dusts his hands off with the towel slung over his shoulder. “It’s been a long time since we’ve all been at home and together like this, my dear. Your mum even shed tears about it.”

“Psh. You mean  _ you _ did.”

Dad narrows his eyes at her. “I fear we might have made a mistake in letting Ethari raise you,” he says dryly, but he rolls his eyes good-naturedly all the same. “Breakfast won’t be long. Can I get you anything?”

Rayla shakes her head. “I’m okay. Maybe something to nibble on for Bait though.”

Dad raises an eyebrow at him over her shoulder, something like a smirk playing on his lips. “Curious little thing, isn’t he?” he says mildly, taking a Cloudapple from the pile on the counter. He offers it to Bait with a grin.

“He’s a bit weird, yeah,” chuckles Rayla, watching Bait turn his fond colours on again for Dad. “Ez has had him forever. Callum says human fishermen sometimes use his kind to lure in deep sea monsters and things. That’s why their dad named him Bait.” Rayla purses her lips. That’s still kind of complicated. She’s not sure how Mum and Dad feel about that whole thing, and she’s not really sure how Dad might react at the reminder that he’s housing the sons of the man who killed Avizandum and started this whole mess to begin with - 

But Dad only snorts rubs Bait’s forehead affectionately, leaving leftover flour-prints against his skin. “They’re good kids,” he says. “Your boys, I mean. I’ll admit that when we first met Callum, I was… apprehensive of him, but… a lot’s changed, hasn’t it?”

“It’s been four years, Dad.”

“It’s different for us, I think.” He scrunches his nose thoughtfully and folds into the chair nearest Bait. “You were a little girl when your mum and I left. Now look at you. Ending wars, making peace with humans, a warrior in your own right…” He lets out a wistful sigh. “We wanted to be here. We wanted so much to see you grow up. I mean obviously things didn’t turn out quite the way we expected, but I don’t think there’ll ever be a day we don’t regret leaving you. Even then I don’t think you ever really needed us, y’know? You barely needed Runaan and Ethari. You’ve done so well on your own.”

Rayla chuckles, her breath soft. “I missed you though,” she admits. “They always said to be proud of you but it’s different when you’re a kid and you don’t get it. I don’t blame you,” she adds quickly. “I never did. But I did miss you.”

Dad smiles at her, golden eyes filled with a pride he doesn’t quite know how to voice. He reaches across the table for her hand instead, and Rayla takes it, understanding of of all the unspoken things he wants to say. “What’s your plan for today, then?” he asks, clearing his throat. “The Feast isn’t for a few days yet. I’m sure there’s plenty you want to show the boys.”

She shrugs at him, mostly because there’s not really a plan, nor has there ever really been one. “A tour, I guess? The -” She falters, just for a moment. “The last time Callum and I were here, we kind of left again in a rush. I didn’t get to show him  _ anything _ , let alone the school, and Lierin’s bakery - does Lierin still run it, even? - and Ez’ll  _ love _ meeting the Shadowpaws, and the Adoraburrs -” She takes a breath. “Are those boxes I used to take out to the Silver Meadow still here?”

“I would think so,” says Dad. “You want me to get them ready for you?”

Rayla nods eagerly. “Yes please. Oh, and I should take Callum to the library, and -”

Dad chuckles at her and shakes his head. “You’ll wear the boys out if you’re not careful,” he teases. “But -” He frowns, just a little. Just enough for Rayla to see the crinkle in his brow before it disappears again when he looks away. “It might be an idea to take Mum with you later. You  _ are _ showing a king around after all.”

“It’ll be fine,” says Rayla, waving him off. “He’ll have me and Callum with him.”

Again, Dad pauses, the little frown crossing his face once more. “Just… be wary,” he says carefully. “I don’t know that everyone in the Silvergrove has quite adjusted to being at peace the way we have. They might not be so pleased to see humans wandering around.”

“Pft.” Rayla snorts as the oven timer goes off. “If they intend to pick a fight, they’ve got another thing coming. I’ll go wake them, shall I? That Moonloaf smells  _ delicious.” _

x

(It’s not the boys she should be worried about, thinks Lain quietly, but he doesn’t tell her that. She can’t know. Not yet.)

x

For the most part, it’s a pretty good day. She’d missed Dad’s Moonloaf, and Ezran munches it down like it might as well be a tray of jelly tarts. Callum spends most of the morning showing Mum his sketchbook, and she only grows more fond of him as she flips through its pages.

“Have you shown these to Ethari?” Rayla hears her asking.

“Ah, yeah, just a few of them,” Callum answers, looking bashful. “Maybe I’ll let him have a look through it later.”

“He’d like them, I think,” says Mum. “You’re very talented. Lain, look, it’s us!”

Rayla only hides her smile behind her breakfast.

She takes them out to see the herd of Shadowpaws that like to hang around the outskirts of the village. Ez loves them, naturally. They tell him their names, and he chatters away, asking them questions only he can understand the answers to. Rayla has to drag him away, in the end - there are other things to do today, and he’ll want to spend even more time in the Silver Meadow. 

She shows them her school, which is a foreign concept to both boys. They only ever had private tutors in the castle, and they were taught more in academic fields than in anything practical. Callum actually asks if she thinks they’d let him sit in on a weapons-smithing class.

“I mean,” she says with a laugh. “Ethari teaches that, so if you asked, he’d probably let you but you’d be sitting in with a class of five year-olds so…”

He claps his hands excitedly and makes a note of it for later. Rayla doesn’t know why she’s so surprised.

They get lunch at Lierin’s, and Rayla’s pleased to see that it’s, indeed, still run by Lierin. She’s getting on in age, but her smile is still kind, she regards Callum and Ez curiously, but without hostility.

“Are all human boys this handsome?” she asks with a smirk.

Callum almost chokes on his Moonberry Surprise. “Um. I’m um. I’m spoken for?” he says stupidly, his face so red he might as well have introduced it to his tart.

Lierin bites back a laugh. “What about you, Your Majesty? You’ll need a dance partner for the Feast.”

Ez pales. “Uh -”

“You’re scaring them, Lierin,” chides Rayla, although she doesn’t bother trying to hide her own amusement. 

“You’re no fun at all, are you?” Lierin sighs wistfully. “I did miss you, Rayla. You were always such a sweet child. The council was stupid to Ghost you the first time. I can’t understand why they’d -”

“Y’know, Lierin,” interrupts Callum. Rayla shoots him a look, but he doesn’t look at her. “You should show us how to make these while we’re here. Maybe we can introduce them to Katolis! It’d be like giving Rayla a piece of home while she’s visiting there.”

“Ooh!” Ez nods excitedly. “Barius would be  _ all over them _ . Please, Lierin?”

Wizened and kind as she is, Lierin scoffs and snatches back her empty dishes. “I’m not about to give away my secrets,” she sneers. “Lain’s been trying for years, and you think I’d just tell  _ you  _ -”

“Ez’ll dance with you at the Feast.”

Ez stares at his brother. “I’ll what now?”

“Will he?” Lierin lets out a laugh and elbows Ez with a cheeky smile. “I’ll consider it,” she says. “A handsome young man like you shouldn’t go without a partner anyway.” She winks and toddles away without another word.

“ _ Callum. _ ” 

Callum grins sheepishly at Ez. 

“Callum  _ why?” _

Ez puts his forehead against the table, miserable, and Rayla can’t help but laugh at them both.

Just before dusk, she takes them home again to pick up those boxes from Mum and Dad. There’s a stack of them waiting for her in the hallway- square holes cut into them and filled with furs and spare bits of fabric courtesy of the Tolith, the tailor, just like she remembers. She piles them up in Ezran’s arms, and then in Callum’s, taking the last three or four for herself, before she leads them up the bough and out of the Silvergrove, and into the Silver Meadow.

Callum catches on quickly, recognition lighting his eyes as they go. 

“Don’t ruin the surprise,” she tells him. “Ez hasn’t met them yet.”

“Them?” 

“You’ll see.” She tosses a grin at him over her shoulder and sets her stack of boxes down in the middle of the meadow. “I took Callum here last time,” she explains. “I used to sneak away and spend hours alone out here when I was a kid. Well. Sort of alone.” She ducks, gloved fingers digging clumsily through the snow until she finds them - a little pile of Adoraburrs, shivering in the cold, huddled together for warmth. She tosses one at Ez.

He catches it deftly and stares. “What is it?”

Then it blinks and he yelps. “Aw!” he coos. “Hi there! What do I call you guys?”

“Adoraburrs!” answers Rayla. “Cute, right?”

“ _ So cute _ ,” grins Ez, breathing gently on one. He grins at the way his breath unfurls around it, and it sighs in the heat “Is that better? Is that what these boxes are supposed to be for?”

“You bet,” says Rayla, ushering the rest of the pile into one of her boxes. “They get cold in the winter. Mum used to help me give them shelter before she and Dad joined the Dragonguard. After they left, I started doing it on my own. I used to try and get it all done before the first snowfall so they’d have somewhere to hide but they’re fine without it, I think - it’s just more comfortable for them this way. I don’t reckon anyone’s come out to do this in ages.”

“Rayla, that’s so nice!” says Callum, setting down his boxes as well.

“Yeah, well… it was that, or I’d bring them all home.” Rayla giggles. “They’re cute, but not so much when you’ve got a million of them in your living room. You can keep a  _ couple _ ,” she adds to Ezran. “Just don’t, like, bring them into Ethari’s workshop or anything tomorrow. They have a tendency to get in places they shouldn’t.”

They while away the rest of the afternoon in the meadow. Ez spends it ushering Adoraburrs into boxes and scolding Bait for trying to eat them. Callum and Rayla are happy just to sit and watch. They brush the snow off a fallen log and seat themselves upon it, chuckling quietly to themselves as Ez chases Bait away from a box full of burrs.

“This is the nicest Solstice I’ve had in… I think ever,” she murmurs.

“Yeah?” Callum nudges her a little, his smile faltering just a bit. “You had nice ones before your mom and dad went away, surely.”

She shakes her head. “Not like this.” She pauses. “I… didn’t have a lot of friends, growing up here. I guess in some ways, that was my fault - I was always running off and playing with the Adoraburrs on my own or training with Runaan. Mum and Dad came back to visit every Solstice but it… got kinda lonely, y’know? You and Ez… you’re the best friends I’ve ever had. I guess it’s just… nice.”

Callum says nothing to that. There’s nothing really  _ to _ say, and Rayla knows it’s because he knows what that’s like. He’s never had a particularly big family either, and after his birth father died, he spent his Solstices - Yule Festivals, she should say - feeling like a stranger in a castle he didn’t really know. It’d gotten better over time, she thinks - he made friends with Soren and Claudia, and then Ez came into the world but - well, not long after that, his mother died, and things were lonely all over again.

“Thanks,” she says in the end. “For coming home with me.”

“How could I do anything else?” says Callum, kissing her fingers. “For what it’s worth, this is the best Solstice Ez and I have ever had. I mean it’s our first, but I figure they’ll only get better.”

“You want to do this every year?”

“If you want to.” Callum traces circles into her hand with his thumbs, his touch familiar even through their gloves. “I think we could make a nice tradition out of it. Come here for the Solstice. Spend the Yule Festival at the Banther Lodge. Raise our future kids to have the best of both worlds. That’s a cool concept, right?”

She laughs. A cool concept indeed. “Do you think Mum and Dad might want to spend some time at the Banther Lodge with us one year?”

“I think they’d love to,” says Callum fondly. “I think they like spending time with you, and if you invited them out to the Lodge, I don’t see them turning it down. I really like them. Do you reckon they like me and Ez?”

“They want to adopt you,” snorts Rayla. “Both of you.”

Callum takes his own turn to laugh, his tips of his fingers tracing lines around the fourth on her left hand. “Maybe they won’t have to,” he says quietly. “One day.”

Rayla chuckles, warmth in her chest. “Maybe they won’t,” she agrees. “One day.”

x

They get back into the Silvergrove just after dark, their stomachs empty, their spirits high. Ez leads them back to Mum and Dad’s home with an armful of Adoraburrs and Bait, toddling along in the snow beside him, looking grumpy at the way Ez coos over them. Callum and Rayla follow, giggling in his wake, arms slung around each other in a shameless show of affection.

It’s been a good day. It’s been the best day.

At least, it is right up until someone steps into their path.

“Artem,” greets Rayla, her surprise betrayed only by the way she blinks at him. He’s only older than her by a couple of years, but she remembers him well. He's taller now, but he's still the dark-skinned, golden-eyed boy she remembers from school. His scowl is sinister though, and there’s a bitterness in his eyes that even Callum senses long before he even opens his mouth.

“So you came back,” he says coldly.

“So I did,” says Rayla, her hackles rising, but Callum gets there first, and he removes his arm from her waist and inches in front of her, his shoulders square and tense. Even Ez grows wary of him, his grip around the pile of Adoraburrs in his arms tightening just a little as his eyes grow hard.

“Can we help you?” asks Callum - although it comes out more like a threat.

Artem scowls at him, and at Ez, but he glowers at Rayla. “And you brought outsiders too. How cute. Did you come thinking you could stop this decision?”

“What  _ decision _ ?” seethes Rayla, starting forward, but Callum holds out an arm to stop her.

Artem  _ laughs _ . “You don’t know, do you?” he sneers. 

“ _ Hey _ ,” snaps Callum. “Artem, was it? We haven’t done anything to you. Back off _. _ ”

“Ah, where are my manners?” Artem snorts at them and offers him and Ezran and a sardonic bow. “Your Highness,” he mocks. “And Your Majesty, I presume. How lovely to meet the reasons my brother is dead.”

_ That _ startles them. Ez frowns.

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” he snaps. “We didn’t kill anyone.”

“No,” says Artem. “But she did. Didn’t you, Rayla? You’re the reason Io and the others never came back, aren’t you? And to bring their target  _ here _ , safe and alive - you have some gall.”

“ _ Artem _ ,” snarls Callum. “You know who I am. What I can do. I won’t ask you again.  _ Back. Off. _ ”

Artem scoffs, but something flickers in his eyes. Something… cautious. He steps back, but he keeps his glare on Rayla over Callum’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he says.

“Why not?” Ezran scowls at him. “There’s  _ peace _ between our people because of her. She’s a  _ hero _ , and this is her  _ home. _ ”

Artem smirks. “For now.” He bows once more without meaning it - a mockery of Callum and Ez’s titles if there ever was one - and steps aside. “Your Highnesses.” He leaves them without another word, his footsteps crunching through the snow.

Rayla almost doesn’t hear them over her own blood rushing through her ears. Her breath falls short. Her hands form fists. 

“Rayla?”

That’s Ez, she thinks, but hardly hears him either. 

“Rayla, are you okay?”

She swallows, her throat dry. “I - uh -” She shakes her head, willing herself to be fine. To be unaffected. To  _ keep it together, Rayla, come on. _ “I’m fine, Ez,” she manages at last. “I just - let’s go home. I’m - I’m kinda tired.” She pushes past them both, hiding her face with the incline of her head, and leads them home in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Australian Christmas Eve and I probably won't be able to get you guys another chapter before New Years, so have a lovely Christmas team! I know this isn't much of a Christmas present but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t fair. Zubeia pardoned her.”
> 
> “For abandoning her team,” corrects Tiadrin bitterly. “Not for their deaths. As far as the Council’s concerned, she’s still guilty for that.”

vi.

  
  


She’s not upset, she tells herself. She’s angry, maybe. Disappointed that it’s been four years and some of her people are still hung up over an incident she’d been pardoned for ages and ages ago. Frustrated, even, by Artem’s very _nerve_ . But she’s not _upset._

_Upset_ means that there’s a part of her that’s saddened by his behaviour. _Upset_ means there’s a part of her that thinks he might be right, even after all this time, but she can’t be _upset_ because it would mean forsaking Ezran - Callum - this peace they’ve worked so hard to restore. Would she rather Io and the rest of her team came back, if it meant Ezran would be dead and the world would still be at war? Would it have been better if she’d just done what she was supposed to do and killed the boys on sight? 

No. No, no, no. She can’t even fathom it. The idea of Ezran and Callum’s deaths at her hands -

Rayla shakes her head. She storms home with her arms crossed and her head hung, her jaw clenched so tightly it hurts her teeth, willing herself to be stubborn - to be _mad_ , if it means keeping her emotions in check - to be anything _but_ guilty for something that she knows in her head _wasn’t her fault_ -

 _Wasn’t it?_ She asks herself. It might have been the right thing to do, but Artem’s still right, isn’t he? She’s still the reason none of the others made it back, and no pardon can change that. The others still _died_ because of her.

“Rayla -”

That’s Callum. She can hear him huffing in an effort to keep up with her, his boots carving jagged lines through the fresh fallen snow, but Rayla doesn’t slow and doesn’t answer. Her throat feels clogged. Her hands are clammy within their gloves. Moon and Stars, it’s so hard to _breathe_ \- 

“Rayla, slow down -”

“ _Don’t_ ,” she manages. Her voice breaks, and for a moment, her facade comes dangerously breaking too, but she tempers herself. Swallows around the lump in her throat. Blinks the moisture out of her eyes. “ _Don’t_.”

“Rayla, you can’t let him get to you.” Callum tries for her fingers but she snatches them back, afraid, for a moment, of his touch. Callum hesitates, but he falls into step with her anyway, his breath like fog in the frigid air. “Rayla, look at me.”

“I said _don’t_ , Callum,” she snarls. “I can’t - I can’t deal with this right now. I just -” She shrugs him off as they round the corner and Mum and Dad’s house comes into view. They’re home now - that’s Mum’s silhouette in the living room window, and gods, as if this isn’t hard enough already without them - _all_ of them - wanting to comfort her at the same time for something as stupid as this.

She doesn’t need it.

She’s not upset.

“Rayla -”

Ezran cuts across him. “Callum.” His voice is soft. Rayla almost doesn’t register it, but Callum disappears from her side and she can only assume it’s Ez’s doing. “Give her some space, okay?” he murmurs. “If she wants to talk to us later, she will. Right now…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, and Rayla can feel both of them staring holes of concern into her back, but it does the trick. Callum says nothing else, and for that she’s grateful. 

The rest of the walk is otherwise silent. Callum and Ezran don’t even discuss it between themselves, and she only falters when she gets to her parents’ door at last. 

Her breath catches. Her hand stills on the door knob. They know the story. They know it pretty well, all things considered - there wasn’t really a choice but to tell them when Callum first pulled them out of their coins. How disorienting it must have been, to come back into a world so vastly changed. To see their daughter, now grown and in a relationship with the human son of the man who’d killed Avizandum. They’d accepted it warily because they didn’t have a choice; because she’s their daughter and she’s _happy_ with the way that things have turned out - but for the first time since they came back into her life, Rayla wonders if there’s a part of them that’s disappointed. 

Runaan’d been in a coin too, because of her. They’d known Io, and Melpomene, and Eratus, and Ruehnar. Melpomene was Mum’s friend. Ruehnar had trained with Dad. Eratus had apprenticed under Ethari. Do they blame her for their deaths too?

“Rayla.”

The silence comes back in a rush. She hadn’t even realized she’d drowned everything else out with the pounding in her ears. But Ezran touches her elbow with careful fingers; gives her enough room to pull away if she needs to, or lean into it if she needs the comfort. 

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Do you need us to distract your mom and dad?”

The question catches her off guard. It’s not something she’d thought he’d ask. It’s not something she’d thought _to_ ask, but there’s understanding in the blue of Ezran’s eyes, and Rayla wonders if that stems from a kind of guilt too. The others are dead because of him just as much as they are because of her. He’d never known them, but there’s remorse there; a sense of regret, and a wish that things could have been different in a way that allowed them to be here still. 

He tugs her back. “I’ll go first,” he offers, hand on the doorknob in the place of hers. “You go in while Callum and I keep them busy. Does that sound okay?”

Rayla takes a breath - it shudders on the way in, but it feels like a _full_ breath - one that reaches her lungs and slows the rapid drumming of her heart. She nods.

Ez smiles at her. He wrinkles his nose, wiping the grimace from his lips and rearranging his features until he looks closer to excitable, and pushes open the door. The warmth hits them like a brick, but it’s not quite as comforting as Rayla wishes it were. Ez gives her one final, apologetic twist of his lips, and heads in. “We’re back!” he calls. “This place is _beautiful_ ! I mean, I always kind of knew it was, but I had no _idea_ -”

“You okay?” whispers Callum.

No. She’s not okay. She might deny that she’s _upset_ , but she’s _definitely_ not okay. She doesn’t tell him that, though. 

“I’m fine,” she croaks. “I just - I need -”

“I know,” says Callum quietly. He clears his throat, peers down the hall to make sure the coast is clear, and ushers her inside with the hand at the small of her back. “Go,” he whispers, shutting the door after them. “Ez and I have got this. Take all the time you need.” His hand lingers at her waist, but he pulls back, in the end, and presses a kiss to her fingers instead. 

He leaves her in the hall with a smile, and Rayla sighs in the relative quiet and allows her tears to brim over at long, _long_ last. 

x

Ez goes to see her on his own later. Tiadrin sends him down the hall with some leftover Moonberry Surprise after Callum makes up some lie about wanting to learn how to cook from Lain, and when he’s sure his brother’s completely out of earshot, Callum drops his facade.

“It was some guy called Artem, I think,” he tells her parents quietly. “He cornered us on the way back. She’s going to find out if we can’t keep people like him away from her.”

Tiadrin purses her lips. Lain runs a hand through his hair. They glance at each other, concerned, uneasy, _guilty_ \- because at the end of the day, Rayla has a right to know about this, and it feels so, _so_ wrong to keep it from her. 

“She’ll leave, if we tell her,” mutters Lain. “And the only way to keep them from doing this to her is to make sure she _stays._ She can’t know.”

“She might not leave,” argues Callum, glancing surreptitiously down the hall. “She might stay anyway.”

Lain grimaces. “Would _you_ if you found out _your_ people were trying to lock _you_ out of _your_ home?”

Callum winces. The unfortunate truth is that he’s right. Rayla spent four years avoiding the Silvergrove after Zubeia’s pardon because she’d been so afraid of being rejected again anyway. Why, in her words, would she _want_ to call someplace _home_ if no one wanted her there? Why should she have to face their scorn when Callum and Ezran have offered her a home where she’s actually wanted? He shakes his head stubbornly. “We have to do something about this,” he mutters. “Something _else_ . She grew up here, she _deserves_ to be able to call it home. How are they even justifying this?”

Tiadrin heaves a sigh. “It’s some loophole the Council found,” she says quietly. “She’s been away for long enough now that they can reasonably claim she doesn’t consider herself part of the village. An outsider, if you will. And there’s no reason an outsider should have a key.”

“That’s why it’s so important that she _stays_ ,” whispers Lain. “They can’t lock her out if she’s here for the Feast. Then they won’t have a choice but to wait another four years before they can try again.”

But Callum frowns at them both. “I’m not understanding. Isn’t it like a ghostvote? Why don’t you two, and Runaan, and Ethari just… _not_ partake in it?”

“It doesn’t matter what we do if she can’t get in to begin with.” Tiadrin groans and rubs tiredly at her temples.

Callum can’t blame her. The whole situation’s a headache, and one that Rayla certainly doesn’t deserve whether she knows about it or not. He groans and runs his scarf over his face. “This isn’t fair. Zubeia _pardoned_ her.”

“For abandoning her team,” corrects Tiadrin bitterly. “Not for their deaths. As far as the Council’s concerned, she’s still guilty for that.”

x

She’s not asleep when Ezran comes knocking. She’s got her back to the door, and she’s curled in on herself, covers pulled right up to her chin in a bid to _pretend_ that she is, but Ez knows her better than that. He might not know her as well as Callum, but that little shake in her shoulders and the shallowness of her breathing is unmistakable. 

She’d been _crying_.

Something aches in Ez’s chest. He’s only ever seen her cry a handful of times, and it’s never been easy to bear. She’s always been the older sister he never had, stubborn and strong and fearless, but to see her like this… Ez sighs. “Can Bait and I come in?” he asks quietly.

Rayla says nothing for a while. Ezran waits, the plate in his hands growing warm in one hand, Bait grumbling impatiently in the other. He waits so long he almost second-guesses himself - maybe she _is_ asleep - but she sniffles after a moment and sits up in the bed.

“What’d you tell my parents?” she asks hoarsely.

“Just that you were tired,” says Ez, setting the plate against her desk. He shuts the door behind him, puts Bait in her lap, and takes the desk chair for himself. “Do you regret it?” he asks, looking down at his thumbs. “Going with me and Callum that night, I mean. Letting… letting me live.”

Something sparks in Rayla’s eye. Something… _angry._ “How could you even ask that?” she snaps, hands forming fists in the covers. 

Ez shrugs. “I dunno,” he says. “Things might be simpler, y’know? They never would have ghosted you. Runaan would never have been stuck in that coin. Everyone else in your team might have been able to come home. And -”

“You’d be _dead_ ,” snarls Rayla. “It might be more convenient for _them_ , sure, but you’d be _dead_ , Ezran, and that’s - that wasn’t negotiable then, and it’s not now.”

“I’m only one kid, Rayla,” chuckles Ez ruefully. “You can slice it any way you like, but when it comes down to it, there’s only one of me, and there were five people on your team. That doesn’t equate.”

“What doesn’t equate is the thousands of people who would have died on _your_ behalf if the war had kept going.” Rayla scowls at him and shifts under the covers until she’s got her legs crossed under Bait. “You’re one my best friends, Ez. I don’t care what Artem says. I made my choice. I don’t regret it.”

“You’re still upset though.”

“I’m not _upset_ .” Rayla grits her teeth and buries the heels of her hands in her eyes, defiant and angry and obviously _upset_ , but Ez doesn’t rebuke her. She sucks in a breath. “I’m _pissed_ ,” she mutters. “Artem had no _right_ -”

“He has every right to be sad about his brother,” says Ez. “Callum would be, if it were me. _You_ would be, and we’re not even related.”

“Don’t you _dare_ take his side _._ ”

“I’m _not._ ” Ez offers her a grim smile and shifts from the chair onto the edge of her bed. He rubs Bait’s forehead affectionately and tugs him back into his lap before he says anything else. “I just get it, that’s all,” he mutters. “It’s not fair that I got to live that night, and your team didn’t. And I know it was for the better but… that’s just the way it happened, y’know? Artem isn’t _wrong_ to be sad. He’s wrong to blame _you_ , but he’s not wrong for being _sad_. And neither are you for being upset, if you are. War is hard, and stupid, and I think, if we had the option, we’d all go back and change the way things happened but… I just don’t want you to blame yourself. It was my fault they didn’t come back, just as much as it was yours, and if you blame yourself…” He trails off, a little unsure on how to finish. It’d be okay if she blamed him, he likes to think, but at his heart, he doesn’t think he could bear it. Rayla’s one of his best friends too, and the idea that she could resent him… doesn’t sit well in his stomach.

Rayla swallows, her eyes turned downward in guilt. “I don’t blame you, Ezran,” she whispers. “I could never blame you.”

“Then _please_ don’t blame yourself, either,” he says, clutching at her hand. “He’s wrong to blame you. Which means _you’re_ wrong to blame you.” He smiles at her, a little bit sad, a little bit pleading, because he hates seeing her like this, and more than anything he just wants her to know that she’s not in this alone. “Please?”

She hiccoughs. Presses her hands into her eyes again to keep them dry, shoulders trembling in her effort not to break. Ez sets a hand on her shoulder, offering what little comfort he can before, at last, she sniffles. “Okay,” she whispers, a not-quite smile tugging at her lips.

Ezran’s smile widens, just a bit, and he tugs the plate off the desk for her and presses it into her hands. “You don’t have to come out until you’re ready,” he says, “but you should eat this before it gets cold. I kinda prefer your Dad’s over Lierin’s, to be honest. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“You should invite them to the Lodge,” chuckles Rayla.

“You think they’d come if I asked?”

She scoffs. “You’re the King of Katolis,” she laughs. “It’d be rude of them to refuse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all had a wonderful new year!!


End file.
